


Ariadne

by blacklid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacklid/pseuds/blacklid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She decided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ariadne

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: During 1.01, _The Pilot_.

She rubbed absently at the red paint on the sides of her fingers, art history project reaching a breaking point, leaned against the wall dripping and drying onto the floor, pajama Sunday abstracts, a collage of landscape and sea turning into darkness and islands straining to be seen, long before the days when all the colors were formed.

The room smelled like chocolate and peace. She pulled off the painters apron and wrapped her hands around and around it, pulled out the pan and set it to cool on the stove.

She couldn't seem to keep him fed. Sam was always hungry for something, it seemed: knowledge, time, food... love. These should tide him over until she was ready to go out for dinner. He should be home any minute.

She sauntered into their room and passed the rumpled bed, dodging the piles of clean unfolded laundry, and entered the bathroom. She turned her head as the water flowed through the pipes and started to fill the room with heavy steam. Her hair curled tightly around the edges of her face and she stared hard into the mirror, looking at all the tiny imperfections and grimacing at her too small nose and her pointy chin, and she sucked in her cheeks and tried on a sultry stare.

A knock on the front doorway reached her ears and she shook her head, pulled her hair from its ponytail as she moved to answer it.

"Hey, Brady. You're early. Sam's not back yet." She turned away and pointed at the kitchen table, about to add that she needed a shower and to make himself at home.

"Sam's not coming back."

She turned around, saw the truth of it in Brady's face. Her mouth froze around the word: "What?"

Brady walked towards her, looked at her slightly sideways as he moved, looked like he was not as shocked by this turn of events as she was.

"Where is he? Did someone call you? What happened?"

Brady smiled and nodded in her direction, kicked each foot out slowly, hands behind his back. "You did, sweetheart."

She shook her head slowly, eyes hot and vehement, "He wouldn't do that. What is wrong with you? ... What is going on?"

Brady advanced with his head tilted toward the ceiling and his eyes on her. He backed her through the tiny kitchen, around the corner.

She blinked. He was still there. "Tell me what happened to him!"

His voice, non-nonchalant, had no more Brady in it. He pursed his mouth and shrugged, a dead salesman ending his route at the foot of her bed. "Doesn't matter, unless you're willing to tell me what you'd do to get him back."


End file.
